I sighed deeply. It was a better response than dropping my head to the desk like I wanted.

"Come in," I called. At least she knocked.

I leaned over and turned on the lamp so I didn't have to hear her comments on the lack of lighting in my office.

Mom pushed the door open and did a quick scan of my new space. Not Brent lifted his head and wagged his tail at her. He didn't know her well enough yet.

"Vonnie, it's so dark in here. Have you considered getting more lights? Why don't you open a window?"

I didn't waste my time explaining that the window opened to a brick wall. "I'm working on the light situation."

There hadn't been time to go buy one of those big plugs like my father rejected and my uncle suggested. Sometimes fathers did not know best.

"Have you had breakfast?" Mom stopped by my desk and gave Not Brent a few head scratches before tucking a piece of her short hair behind her ear.

"Yes." Technically, hot chocolate and a doughnut counted as breakfast. Right?

Seemed legit to me.

She pulled out the chair in front of my desk, signaling she planned to stay awhile. Why didn't anyone respect the importance of my job? I needed time to sit in my chair and think about things. In peace. And silence.

It was a lesser known but key part of being a private investigator.

Sherlock Holmes did drugs and Vonnie Vines made lists and stewed. We each had our own methods.

"Why do you look so glum?"

I sipped the last of my hot chocolate and replaced the lid. "It's just my current cases."

"The missing dog?" she asked.

Mom was in the Facebook group, too. She knew way too much about my life and work. It was a hazard of living in a small town full of gossips.

"Not only the missing dog. I'm also working on Jalinda Jones' murder."

She never remembered the murders.

She crossed her legs and made a small tsk sound like only a mother managed. "So, what's the problem? Can't you just run some blood work or something?"

I rubbed at my temple. "No, Mom. I'm not the Maine State Police lab. It's just hard right now. I'm not sure what to do on Jalinda's case, and I'm running out of suspects."

Mom nodded. "You're just not cut out for PI life, Vonnie. It's okay. It's not a job for most people. You shouldn't feel bad if you fail at it and throw in the towel. Your dad and I will still love you. The school needs a new secretary. I can make some calls."

Wow. She tried. I guess.

In her own special Sylvia Vines way.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Don't take that tone with me, Vonnie." She uncrossed her legs and got ready to stand. "I'm just saying it's a reckless job and lots of people fail at their first jobs. Look at your cousin Randy."

Randy was a fourth cousin and lived in his parents' basement trying to be a YouTube star. I didn't see the similarities between us.

"I'm so glad you stopped in for one of your inspirational pep talks."

She stood with my response. "Vonnie, stop. I'd say the same thing to your sister. Get yourself a nice normal job."

"Normal is boring, Mom." I picked up the Christmas card and acted like I wanted to read it again.

She took the hint and turned like she planned to leave. She'd never unbuttoned her black peacoat. "Normal is safe."

I definitely couldn't tell Sylvia about the gun shipment, bullets, and my mini kidnapping. She wouldn't take it well.

"Oh, look at the time," I said when she didn't actually walk to the door. "Not Brent needs a potty break."

I hooked his leash to his collar and gave him a gentle tug to wake him up.

Mom held the door open for us with a disapproving look. "If you're keeping the dog, he needs a real name."

I tugged Not Brent through the door and locked up behind her. "I'm not keeping him."

"Remember that you can always move home when you give up," she said as we parted ways in the parking lot.

I nodded and gave her a sarcastic thanks in my head. Her belief in me was, as always, astounding.

With Not Brent peeing on all the bushes, I walked toward my car like we were leaving until my mother's car turned down the block and out of sight. "Come on, buddy. Back to work."

I tugged him from his favorite bush at the end and headed back inside.

Two hours of self-pity and Christmas card obsessing later, I continued to go back to Jimmy's mother's letter. Something wasn't right. It wasn't the undertone of passive aggressiveness she used in detailing her family life. I was used to that with my mother. It was something else.

But what?

I wanted to talk to her in person. See how mad she was about the no grandkid thing with my own ears. We needed to have a chat. Mano a mano.

Ruth's home was only a short drive from my office. Not Brent worked on his Christmas tree window design and Samantha sat calmly in the backseat, not destroying my detail job. She was quickly becoming my favorite sidekick.

There was suspicious about Ruth Jones' home as I pulled up to it. The white siding on the two-story cape cod was clean. The bushes below her large front window were trimmed. Everything neat and orderly... except one. Her sidewalks and driveway still had a foot of snow covering them.

Patches of the front walk had frozen into icy pools of snow and water mixed. I avoided them, still slipping on two pieces before making it to the front door.

I knocked, but no one answered. The window shades were drawn, but that didn't stop me from trying to get a peek inside her home.

I waited a minute and gave it another knock, but no one magically appeared to answer the door.

Not Brent moved his tongue designs on her front door window a few inches to the right, starting on a new masterpiece. The icy wind cut through the air and turned my cheeks a bright red.

I kept my gaze down so I didn't slip on any of the sidewalk as I made my way back to the car. Not Brent took up a steady stream of barks guiding the way and didn't stop even as I shoved him in the car. I didn't yell at him until the first of his nails clattered and scraped against the glass.

"No, Not Brent," I yelled, finally raising my head to make sure he knew I meant business. Shit. "Brent!"

The dog wasn't barking at me but his counterpart. The little light brown and white dog twin darted in front of my car and then ran back toward the woods by the church where I'd spotted him yesterday.

I watched where he entered the woods and prepared to grab Not Brent and take a walk to track him down again.

Two thundering truck honks shattered the plan. Tony pulled his white Dodge Ram to the curb and lowered the passenger window, leaning over to talk to me. "I was on my way to pick you up for our date."

"Right," I said, pretending like I hadn't forgotten about it.

His eyes narrowed. "You can't wear that."

"What?" I glanced down at the jeans and black puffy jacket. "Give me ten minutes to run home and change."

"I'll meet you there. Pick something slutty."

Slutty meant not much fabric, and it was freaking January in Maine.

Great. Whatever this bounty hunter date entailed, it sounded like a roaring good time.

"Sorry, girls," I whispered to my chest as I started my car and turned toward home.